Posts Tagged With: mother

I don’t have many rules in my life. I don’t believe in any god or religion either. Pretty much the only gospel I follow is: ‘There’s nothing a little bit of shopping can’t fix’. (Sometimes shopping gets replaced with food, but let’s stay simple here.)

So today, when my mom asked if I wanted to do something with her, my first thought was ‘PRIMARK!’ like a crack whore whose last fix happened way too long ago. Which comes close to the truth, in case you’re wondering.

The thing with Primark is, it’s the bag of crisps among the shops. ‘I swear, I’m only gonna have a handful, I’m not even hungry.’ Uh huh. And out you come with ten heavy bags and a credit card screaming in agony. I did hold back today, though. Or actually, I didn’t feel like I did but I ended up paying way less than I thought and I still came away with a bunch of things I definitely hadn’t planned buying. Seriously, though, I know the puppy cushion was only 5€. I know it isn’t the worst kind of retail mania I’ve ever indulged in. But this newfound obsession with cushions for my couch really need to stop. In case you’re wondering: I have a 2-seater Ektorp couch from Ikea and that already has as little space as a couch will have. And I keep adding cushions because they’re all so adorable and pretty and uuuuggghh, I need them all.

But anyway, what I was actually gonna do was write a long appreciative post about the wonderful person that is my mother.

See that Hufflepuff shirt in the picture? See, I almost didn’t buy it. The thing with Primark and me is it has little love for my plus size body. With most of their shirts, their cardigans, their hoodies, well, most items that are meant to dress the upper half of your body, I will just about fit into their 20, sometimes more comfortably than other times. This often causes my heart to break silently when I browse their nerdy racks with all the Potter, Game of Thrones, Disney and other items. This time wasn’t much different and as usual, everything I didn’t want was available in all sizes, all the many available 20’s mocking me while I stared longingly at all the things I couldn’t have. When I saw these shirts, however, my inner Hufflepuff did a happy dance, followed by a sad dance when there were no 20’s left.

I dug out an 18 and looked at it, holding it up to my body and frowning dubiously, my usual ‘I know this is very irresponsible spending if I don’t at least try this on but the changing rooms are so annoying here’-dance, asking my mom if she thought I should just go for it or regret not buying it forever. When she goes, digs out a 12 and says ‘Or you could just buy this one for when you’ve lost all that weight!”

Awww, I know, right? That’s so lovely of her. Even though I know 12 is so ridiculous, it’s almost rude again, just the thought that she really, truly believes I’ll manage to lose all that weight eventually makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. My mom is one of the most brutally honest and judgemental people I know. If she thinks you’re full of shit or what you’re going will crash and burn, she’ll have you know, and she won’t stop before you’re curled up on the floor, crying uncontrollably. But when she says something motivational like that, you know she really believes it. You know she isn’t just supporting you because it’s kinda her job but she absolutely, 100% has your back.

So yes, hormonal or not, I was not looking forward to the first moment I got all teary-eyed in a Primark but it really couldn’t be helped today.

I did end up being an 18, by the way. My mom may believe in the impossible, but I’m just not there, yet.

Saturday was probably the worst day of my life. As bad days go, it started pretty unspectacular. I got up, I went to work, I got home, I called my mom who said she wanted to go to the mall, so I came along. I bought new shoes, then I wanted new pants, too. My mom said she felt hot, so I told her to take her coat off. Then she said the lights were weird and flimmering and I agreed, the artificial lights in the store were pretty annoying. Then she said she was feeling a bit dizzy, so I said she should sit down. Then she couldn’t walk anymore, so I helped her to take a seat.

And then it started. My own personal worst nightmare.

My mom started shaking and spazzing. True, actual spasms that her banging her head against the wall. At first I thought she was…I don’t even know what I was thinking. It was one of those surreal situations that usually happen in dreams which are so crazy that you’re actually calm because you know they can’t be true, so there must be a good explanation. But she wouldn’t stop and she couldn’t speak anymore, so I flipped.

The end of the story was that my mom’s blood sugar was so far down, she had some spasms. Someone called an ambulance and she was taken to hospital where, luckily, they got her blood sugar up again quite quickly and she was allowed to come home again with me. Which is good and a relief but the shock from seeing her like that just won’t wear off. When I got home on Saturday night, I was so tired, I couldn’t even think and fell asleep pretty easily. But since then, I’ve had a mini panic attack every night before I could go to sleep. Like sleeping was dangerous. Like sleeping means I won’t notice if something happens to her again. In all sincerety, I thought I was gonna lose my mom on Saturday. It isn’t even about her bringing it onto herself because she’s so careless that’s keeping my worry alive (well, that too), it’s just the simple fact that it’s something I cannot and will never control. Even if she takes care of herself – or anyone I care about, actually – there’s always so much that can happen or may already be happening that you cannot help. Awful things like cancer or accidents or a violent stranger. It’s always been a worry of mine but since Saturday, it seems so much more acute.

But anyway, although I needed to get that out, this entry wasn’t supposed to be about myself and how very much this affected me. What I originally intended to write about are angels. Not the religious ‘sent from God’ kind or any supernatural spirits or maybe even the spirits of the dead. No, I mean people that just happen to always be there when they’re needed. Actually, I mean two (or actually five) specific people.

Because when that thing happened with my mom, before the ambulance was even called, before I even realised what was going on, a young woman seemed to come out of nowhere. Not only did she immediately step in to help, she also happened to be a professional. In all the chaos, I didn’t get exactly what her job was but apparently she works with diabetes patients a lot and had seen such spasms many times before. She was there with her mother, sister and a young man who I think was her partner and they all knew so much about diabetes, too. And, which was even more amazing, they immediately took care of me, too. They took me aside and while the young woman helped my mom, her family talked to me and calmed me down and hugged me. I’ve never been hugged by a stranger before. Hell, most members of my family never hug me or anyone else! And these people were just…there. As if I was part of their family. I’ve never met anyone who was that kind. There wasn’t anything creepy about it at all and I didn’t even feel awkward. I think if they hadn’t been there, not only would my mom have hurt herself but I would have also gone bat shit crazy. I’m so, so mad at myself for not asking for their names or numbers, so I could have given them something back, even just a small gift. My mom already said we should look into finding them through Facebook or a radio station or something like that. Although I have a hard time believing they’re even real. They truly seemed like angels to me, the way they just popped up out of nowhere.

And, since those were four people, there’s still one missing that I already said deserves a mention here. Who’s actually not popped up out of nowhere but still is always exactly where I need her when I need her and that’s my very, very good friend Mel. While the ambulance guys worked on my mom, the helpers asked if there wasn’t someone I could or should call, a father, a sibling, any family member. And the first person I thought of was Mel. I have an uncle, I have two aunts…but she’s the first person I thought of when they asked me about my family. Because she’s always there. I called her as soon as I could and, as she has so often, she managed to get me grounded again. I really hope that everyone has a person like her in their life, whether it’s actual blood family or someone you just made your family, just someone that you can call anytime, for any big or small reason, who will be honest with you but still have your back either way. And boy, do I know I’m making that hard for her sometimes most of the time.

I know I keep alternating between “Yay, I love my life!” and “I wanna kill myself” posts. But that’s basically what my life is like, to be perfectly honest. I got one tiny step closer to understanding what I’m like with that talk to my doctor but it’s still a lot of work to just get over all that and do stuff.

I don’t want to load all the responsibility on someone else’s shoulders but I’ve also figured out that my mother is at least part of the problem. She’s just exactly like this and she’s always been. Even when I was little, I mostly remember her ruling her life from the couch and rarely ever getting out for anything that wasn’t mandatory like grocery shopping or work. She’s been overweight as long as I know her and she’s never really done anything about it or made it seem like she knows that’s not a good thing. Now, I don’t want to make it seem like she’s a bad mother. But she’s clearly got some of the wrong priorities and she’s taught this to me since I was little. My dad never was in the picture all too much (and he was / is actually a bad father) so I learned most things from my mom, unfortunately also the bad things.

Yesterday was proof of how destructive she really is sometimes. We’d talked about seeing the new Star Trek movie eventually. When we met for dinner yesterday, we talked about it again and I mentioned the double feature that was on that night. I wasn’t even sure if she was still up for seeing the movie and I’ve basically learned not to ask her to do things with me unless she asks for it. Which, surprisingly, she did. I was surprised that she suggested doing something that required her to leave her couch for a whole evening but ah well. But then, as soon as we got to the theater, she did nothing but complain. The people were stupid, the seat was uncomfortable, the popcorn was too sweet, the drink was too cold, her seat neighbor was too noisy, the movie was too action-filled, the sound was too loud, the 3D made her head hurt… Everything was bad. Admittedly, a lot of things went wrong. The theater messed up so we had to change theaters for the second movie, then we had to wait forever. But hell, the place was filled with nerds, all of whom were in a good mood. It was actually fun. But she refused to see any good in anything. Really, why had she even come? Finally, by the time we got back to the car and she started yelling at the damn car (!) I snapped and told her to shut the fuck up. And I asked her why the hell she was even complaining about every tiny bit. And she said – and this is a quote – “Because I wasted the past four hours here!” Gee, thanks, mom. I love spending time with you, too. Worst is she doesn’t even know how hurtful it is and that she’s basically insulting me with this. Afterwards, I just didn’t talk to her at all anymore. And I haven’t spoken to her for more than two sentences today, either. She was trying to make small talk but I can’t even bring myself to look at her without wanting to punch her in the face for what she said. I didn’t even ask her to do this. I thought we were going out for a fun night. But no, apparently all she was thinking about was how much couch time her already fat ass was missing out on and how many crime shows she couldn’t sleep through that night. And it’s so hard not to hate her with a fiery passion for passing that lazy ass attitude on to me. Even now that she knows I’m suffering from being overweight and failing at changing, she always tries to get me to be lazy and irresponsible with her. Like when I have plans to do something, she’ll ask me whether I don’t want to stay home with her and order take away food. That’s so horrible and makes me so angry. But when I try to talk to her about how bad that is and that she’s ruining her own health and mine, she only gets mad and tells me I’m being overdramatic. I really just want to stay away from her a lot more because she is the kind of person my mother should warn me about. Only, it’s also hard to stop caring about what she does. I cannot and should not care anymore, and yet I do. There’s nothing I can do because I cannot force her but I keep thinking “What if something happens to her?” I know it’s not my fault and I know she’s being stupid and stubborn but I keep thinking that I need to do more. Again, something I wanna hate her for.

Anyway, I don’t want to end this on a bad note. So I’ll tell you about today. After being so mad and disappointed last night, I slept for some twelve hours and then woke up to a text from a friend telling me we’d meet at the gym at 4:30. Well, oops, it was already 2. So I got up, had a snack, and then drove to the gym. We tried the treadmills for the first time and it felt so good to do something again. I’ll never be a fitness guru. But I can definitely tell that it feels nice to be active. I can release tension that way and it’s a sure way for me to feel better about myself. To be honest, I’d expected myself to give up and faint after five minutes, that’s how out of shape I am currently. But that wasn’t the case at all. I made it through 45 minutes of straight walking. No running yet, though, and I don’t think that’s gonna happen for a while, not at my current weight. But I was really happy and proud of myself for getting through this. I plan to go again on Saturday, alone this time because my friend can’t make it. I hope I’ll stick to it this time.